Dark Desire (26 page)

Mikhail acknowledged her with a slight grin and a nod.

Beside her, Jacques fought down the snarling beast the memory of Mikhail's attack triggered. Shea ignored him. "A woman named Noelle had a child, a son, with a man named Rand. Do you know where the boy is? He would be twenty-six now," she asked.

Mikhail's features stilled, became a mask. A slow hiss escaped, and Jacques instinctively edged around Shea so that she was behind him.

Be very careful, Mikhail,
Gregori warned.

"Noelle was our sister," Mikhail stated softly, "murdered just weeks after the child was born."

Shea nodded. The information confirmed what Jacques had already told her. "And the child?"

I do not like this, Gregori. Why would she wish to know of Noelle's child? Humans murdered her. They have a network with far-reaching tentacles. Perhaps she is a part of it after all.
Mikhail's voice shimmered in Gregori's mind.

Jacques would know
. Gregori was certain.

Maybe not. His mind is shattered.

He would know. She could not hide it. You fear for your brother. You do not look at her with your eyes and mind open. There is much sorrow, tragedy in her eyes. She is tied to a man she does not know, a man who is extremely dangerous, one who has hurt her on more than one occasion. She is highly intelligent, Mikhail; she knows what she has become, and she is struggling to accept it. This woman is no assassin.

Mikhail inclined his head at his oldest friend's assessment. "Noelle's son was murdered seven years ago, probably by the same assassins who tortured my brother."

If it was possible for Shea to grow any paler, she did. Her body swayed slightly; and Jacques gathered her close. The boy had been his nephew, but Jacques had no memory of the child or the man, so the pain he felt was Shea's. Her half-brother, her only chance at a family.

I am your family,
Jacques comforted her gently, his chin rubbing lovingly over the top of her head.

He was the young man in the second photograph Wallace and Smith showed me. I know he was.
Shea laid her head wearily against his chest.
I felt such wrenching pain when I saw the photograph.

I am sorry, Shea. So much has happened. You need time to absorb all this.

Puzzled by her obvious distress, Mikhail glanced at Gregori, who shrugged his broad shoulders rather elegantly.

"What of Rand, his father?" Jacques voiced the question for Shea, although the name sent pain splintering through his head, evoked a black, empty hole where memory should have been.

"Rand went to ground for a quarter of a century. He rose last year, but he keeps to himself. He sleeps most of the time," Mikhail answered.

Shea's fingers curled in Jacques'. "He did not raise his own son?"

When Mikhail shook his head, Shea swallowed the hard knot of protest blocking her throat and glanced accusingly at Jacques.
Children and the women who live with them seem to be left alone rather easily by your race.

We are not Rand and Maggie.
Jacques stated it firmly.

Shea bit her lip as she studied Mikhail. "What does 'go to ground' mean?"

"Carpathians rejuvenate in the soil," Gregori explained, watching her closely. "The human sleep does not allow quick healing or real rest. We may go through human practices—showering, dressing, all the little habits to protect what we are, although there is no real need—but we sleep the sleep of Carpathians. The earth heals and protects us during our most vulnerable hours when the sun is high."

Shea was shaking her head in denial, a hand going to her throat in a curiously defenseless gesture. Her eyes met Jacques in helpless fear.
I cannot. You know I cannot.

It is all right. Neither would I welcome another burial.
And it was true. Jacques had begun to suffocate, to associate the deep earth with pain and torment.
I would not force such a decision on you.

Raven settled against Mikhail's shoulder. "I sleep above ground in a very comfortable bed. Well, the bedroom is situated below ground, but it's a beautiful room. You'll have to come see it sometime. I don't like to sleep in the ground. I was human, Shea, like you. If feels too much like being buried alive."

"Rand is my father," Shea admitted suddenly.

There was a stark silence in the room. Even the wind stopped, as if nature itself was holding its breath. Mikhail moved then, seemed to flow from the chair, his power unmistakable. His black eyes covered every inch of her.
Gregori?

If this is true, Mikhail, Rand has done what was thought impossible. Unless…

Mikhail caught the thought. Gregori suspected that Shea's mother was Rand's true lifemate. "What you are saying is of tremendous importance to our race, Shea. Your mother is human?"

"Was. My mother committed suicide eight years ago. She couldn't face life without Rand." Her chin lifted defiantly. "She was so obsessed with him, she didn't have anything left over for her child." She said it matter-of-factly, as if she hadn't suffered, hadn't been alone all her life.

"Did he convert her?" Mikhail asked, furious at the unknown woman for neglecting her child, a female child at that. At the very least the woman should have brought the baby to the Carpathians to raise. "Was she Carpathian?"

"No, she wasn't like you, not even like me. She was definitely human. She was beautiful, Irish, and completely withdrawn from the real world most of the time. I knew about Rand and Noelle through my mother's diary."

"Did your mother have any psychic talent?" Gregori asked thoughtfully.

Raven glanced up at Mikhail. She had psychic ability. Shea's answer was extremely important to the future of their race. She would provide the proof of what they had long suspected, long hoped.

Shea's teeth bit at her lip. "She knew things before they happened. She would know the phone was going to ring or that someone was about to stop by. You have to understand, though, she rarely spoke. She would forget about me for days, even weeks at a time, so I didn't know much about her. She didn't exactly share lots of information with me."

"But you are certain Rand is your father?" Mikhail persisted.

"When I was born, my blood caused quite a stir in the medical community. In my mother's diary she wrote that Rand was my father and that he had a strange blood disorder. She thought I had inherited it. She took me to Ireland, hid me, because the doctors and scientists frightened her with their persistent questions. She was certain Rand was dead."

Mikhail and Gregori exchanged a look. Their race was dying out. The last female child to be born had been Noelle some five hundred years earlier. The men were choosing to end their existence or turning vampire without a lifemate. Mikhail and Gregori had long suspected that a handful of human women, those with true psychic talent, had the ability to become a lifemate as Raven had. There had never before been an instance of a child born half-human, half-Carpathian. The only explanation possible was that Shea's mother had been Rand's true lifemate. Everyone had known he did not have real feelings for Noelle. Yet Rand had not turned Shea's mother. No Carpathian woman would have allowed her child to grow up alone as Shea's mother had. Why hadn't Rand said anything? Their people would have cherished a child.

Rand did not mention suicide when he awakened,
Gregori mused.
He stays to himself, but that is not unusual.

"Is it possible for us to see this diary?" Mikhail asked Shea gently.

Shea shook her head sadly. "I was being hunted. I had to destroy it."

"Your life must have been difficult, with no one to guide you," Gregori said quietly. "You are not without your own unique capability. You are a true healer."

"I studied many years." She sent him a small smile. "I had plenty of time to apply myself."

"You were born a healer," he corrected. "It is a rare gift." Gregori's silver eyes dwelt on her slender figure. "Jacques." His voice dropped even lower so that the sound seemed to seep into one's bloodstream and warm it like a good brandy. "She is growing weaker. Her body trembles. I know that you do not fully understand her importance to our entire race, but I know your instincts are strong and intact. You are her lifemate, sworn to her protection and care."

Shea's hand gripped Jacques' tightly. "Don't listen to him. What we choose to do has nothing to do with any of them."

"Trust me, love, I would never allow him to harm you," Jacques said softly in reassurance. "He is only concerned that you are so weak."

"I am a healer, like you, Shea." Gregori seemed to glide forward. His body flowed without a hint of movement or threat. He was just suddenly closer. "I would never hurt a woman. I am Carpathian. A male seeks only to protect and care for our women." His hand reached out to her neck. The touch of his fingers was astonishing. Light. Heat. A tingling sensation. "You must feed, Shea." The voice was around her, in her, working at her will. "Jacques needs you strong to see him through what lies ahead. Our people need you. My blood is ancient and powerful. It will serve you, heal you, strengthen both of you."

"No! Jacques, no. Tell him no." For some reason she was alarmed at the idea.

"I will feed her," Jacques objected quietly, his voice all the more menacing because of its hush.

The pale eyes slid over him. "You need to conserve your strength to heal your own body. Mikhail will supply you with what you need. There was a time, not so long ago, when you gave freely to your brother."

Jacques carefully inspected Shea. Her skin was so pale, she looked translucent. The bruises on her throat, stark smudges; had not healed. She looked tired, her body far too slender. Gregori was right; she was trembling. Why had he not seen her weakness? He certainly had contributed to it.
His blood is very pure, Shea. It is what aided my healing so quickly. 1 am not happy with another male seeing to your needs, but he is our healer. I want you to do as he says.

I won't, Jacques.
Shea shook her head adamantly.
I want to go right now. You promised me we could go.

This must be done, Shea. He is right. You grow weaker every day.

We don't need them to help us.
She held out a hand to stop Gregori's advance. "I know you're trying to help us, but I'm not ready for this yet. I need to figure things out for myself and get used to what I have to do to survive. Surely that's not such an unreasonable thing." Deliberately her fingers tangled with Jacques', linking them together. She needed him on her side, to understand she needed time.

"To give you time to slowly die from lack of care? Your health has been neglected for some time. You are a doctor—you know that is so. You made up your mind your life span would be very short. That cannot be," Gregori said softly. His voice was mesmerizing, hypnotic. "Our women are our only hope. We cannot lose you."

Shea could feel Jacques' swift denial of the possibility of such a thing. Violence swirled close to the surface, but he man aged to control it. His black eyes centered on her green .ones.
I know what he says is true. Shea. I have felt your acceptance of your death on more than one occasion. You were willing to trade your life for mine.

That's different, and you know it,
she said desperately. His hands were on her, trapping her to him.
Don't do this, Jacques. Let me do this in my own time.

Shea.
He ached with wanting to do as she asked him. She could feel it in his mind, the need to give her whatever would make her happy, yet at the same time the idea that she could be slipping away from him terrified him. His every instinct insisted he do as the healer suggested and ensure that she was brought to full strength. He fought to stay in control, to not allow his animal instincts to make the decision.
Please, little red hair, just do this so we can both be strong. Once it is done, we will be able to be on our own together and make our own decisions.

I'm not ready, Jacques. Try to understand. I need time to comprehend what's happening to me. I need to feel in control. I'm not going to die. I've accepted that whatever you are, whatever my father is, I have become wholly. I know that you somehow were able to bind us together. And I'm trying to deal with all that in my own time and way.

I am attempting to do what is right for you.

How can you know what's right for me? You decided for me. You took over my life without my knowledge or consent. You had no right to do that, Jacques.

No, I did not,
he admitted.
I would like to think that if I was not what I have become, I would have courted you as I should, that I could have earned your love and loyalty. I would hope I was not the type of man to force my will on you.

This is no different, Jacques. Can't you see that?

"She is so weak, Jacques, and so much has happened so quickly." Gregori's velvet voice was seductive. "She cannot make a rational decision. How will you aid her? If you try to supply her with blood, you will be unable to adequately protect her. She needs to be healed. You are her lifemate, Jacques. Reach inside yourself, deep within you. These things were imprinted on you before your birth. The male can do no other than to see to his lifemate's health."

Mikhail,
Raven objected.
She's being pushed too far. Don't allow this.

She is too important to all of us. We need her at full strength, so she can control Jacques while we wait for his mind to fully heal. None of us can do so. We do not wish to be forced to destroy him. In the end she would choose to follow him, and we would lose her also. You can see her first thought is for Jacques and not for herself. She would follow him for certain. We have to do this, Raven. I am sorry it distresses you.

Jacques bent his head to find Shea's temple with warmth and tenderness. His arms closed around her, pulled her resisting body in close to his hard frame. "Shea, I believe the healer is right in this."